The Collapse of Faith

The path from the grand auditorium to the S-class lounge was not a long one.

Yet, I felt as though I had traversed an entire century.

Behind me, the deathly silence in the grand auditorium finally shattered, replaced by a volcanic eruption of clamor and gasps.

I did not turn back.

As an exemplary villainous young lady, it would be utterly unaesthetic to glance back at the explosion—the scene of my own making—at such a moment.

My mind, at present, echoed with a singularly mundane yet utterly fatal question:

‘Exactly how much was that Holy Appraisal Stone worth?’

While the Eckhart family possessed wealth rivaling a nation, the destruction of a sacred church artifact, if Father were to learn of it…

‘Wait a moment…’

Father had only yesterday gifted me the Eye of the Abyss.

Instinctively, I caressed the ring adorning the ring finger of my left hand.

When I had touched the Holy Appraisal Stone earlier, I sensed the magic within the ring stir with a peculiar excitement.

‘Could it be that this ring also played a part in the stone’s demise?’

If that were the case, then I had an excuse.

‘Father’s gift was simply too powerful; it’s not my fault.’

With this realization, the stiffness that had gripped my spine finally, truly, eased.

“Lady Lilliana…”

Ella Smith trailed closely behind me, to my left.

Her voice still trembled, yet I recognized that it was not fear.

It was…

…the utter exhaustion that followed extreme exhilaration.

“Did… did you see it? That light… that blinding, arrogant light… before you, it was extinguished like a candle flame!”

In Ella’s emerald eyes, a fervent devotion burned.

As a light-attribute user, she understood better than anyone the sheer purity and stubbornness of the light elements contained within the Holy Appraisal Stone.

It was the crystallized faith of the church, accumulated over millennia, a sanctuary proclaimed to be absolutely inviolable.

Yet, just moments ago.

She had witnessed with her own eyes how that supposed absolute had been effortlessly devoured by Lady Lilliana’s unfathomable void.

For Ella, this was more than merely a triumph of power.

It was akin to…

…a changing of the gods.

“Light… is not omnipotent.”

Ella murmured to herself, her gaze fixed on my retreating back, her eyes distant.

“Before your abyss… even light must bow in submission.”

“…Do not utter such misleading words.”

A headache brewing, I rubbed my temples.

“The stone was simply of poor quality. Or perhaps it had been stored for too long, losing its magical essence.”

I attempted to offer a more scientific explanation.

Evidently, my two devotees had already automatically filtered out my explanations, activating their personal ‘deification’ systems.

“No, it was an inevitable outcome.”

Beatrix, on my right, gripped her sword hilt, her tone cold and resolute.

“The Church always proclaims light as justice. But what just transpired proved that true strength can encompass, and even annihilate, all attributes. Lady Lilliana, you… have long surpassed the rules they define.”

She gazed at my profile.

A dangerous glint shimmered in her golden eyes.

“Now, even without the recognition of the royal family, you are already the uncrowned monarch of this academy… no, of this entire kingdom.”

‘Please, stop showering me with praise.’

‘I just want to be an anonymous background character, not a queen!’

We returned to the S-class exclusive lounge.

The moment the door closed, sealing off the outside world’s gazes—whether awestruck or probing—

I felt my entire being relax. I walked directly to the wide velvet sofa and sank into its cushions.

“I’m exhausted…”

I removed my glasses, placing them casually on the coffee table.

Maintaining a cool, aloof demeanor on stage, my face had been tense, and now my facial muscles ached slightly.

“Lady Lilliana!”

Ella immediately rushed over, her face etched with profound concern.

“You must have… expended too much mental energy, didn’t you? After all, you devoured a sacred artifact…”

She misunderstood. I was merely weary at heart.

“Please allow me to… alleviate your fatigue.”

Before I could even refuse, Ella was already kneeling beside the sofa.

She extended her hands, not touching me directly, but instead carefully removed the lace glove from my left hand—the one that had just touched the Holy Appraisal Stone.

Upon the white glove, a faint trace of dust, the remnants of the Holy Appraisal Stone after it turned to ash, seemed to linger.

Ella observed that speck of dust, her brows furrowing slightly, as if it were a desecration of her deity.

“It’s soiled.”

She murmured softly.

Then, she performed an action that left me utterly speechless.

She did not discard the glove; instead…

…she cupped the glove in her palms, lowered her head, and pressed her cheek against it.

“Ella?!” I gasped.

“Upon this… rests the stone’s final lament.”

Ella’s eyes were closed, her voice ethereal, as if she had fallen into a trance.

“It was consumed by you. It… became a part of you. And this glove bore witness to that very moment.”

She inhaled deeply, as if savoring the lingering scent of my magic on the glove, along with the lingering aftermath of destruction.

“This scent of destruction… it’s truly delightful.”

A flush crept up her cheeks, and her eyes, moist with emotion, fixed upon my bare left hand.

“Lady Lilliana… your hand must be… quite empty now, isn’t it?”

“…Huh?”

“Having just consumed such an immense light… do you not now require… a different sensation to fill it?”

As she spoke, she cast aside the glove.

Her small hands, warm from excitement, gently yet tentatively, clasped my cool fingertips.

Then, our fingers intertwined.

Tightly.

Leaving not a single gap.

“My light… though not as pure as the Holy Appraisal Stone’s.”

Ella raised her head.

Ripples shimmered in her emerald eyes, filled with a resolve and longing akin to offering herself upon an altar.

“But… if you ever wish, you can always… devour me.”

The word “devour” was whispered with an extreme lightness, an undeniable ambiguity.

I felt a warm, vibrant light-attribute magic flow ceaselessly and willingly into my body through our interlocked fingers.

It was a sacrificial offering of magical power.

‘This child…’

‘Does she genuinely wish to be drained by me?’

“…Stop fooling around.”

I tried to withdraw my hand, only to find her grip unyielding.

“Um… I also believe an examination is necessary.”

Beatrix, who had been standing nearby, now spoke.

She moved to the other side of the sofa, knelt on one knee, bringing her gaze level with mine.

“Such an act of consumption… might place a burden on your body.”

She looked at me, her eyes falling upon my forehead…

A thin sheen of cold sweat had beaded there, a consequence of my nervousness on stage.

‘Don’t ask, just assume it’s social anxiety.’

“You’re sweating.”

Beatrix retrieved from her pocket the handkerchief I had given her yesterday, now pristine and clean.

She didn’t wipe immediately.

Instead, she first gently pressed the back of her hand against my forehead.

Her hand was rough, calloused from years of sword practice.

That firm touch grazed the skin of my forehead, bringing a faint prickling sensation that, due to her cautious movements, transformed into a tingling itch.

“…Your body temperature is low, but your pulse is fast.”

Beatrix made her assessment.

She did not withdraw her hand, maintaining her position as her thumb gently massaged my temple.

“The immense devouring power from earlier must have overheated your magical circuits.”

She picked up the pristine white handkerchief…

The one I had given her yesterday, which she carried with her as a cherished treasure.

She gently, bit by bit, wiped away the thin layer of cold sweat from my temples.

“Please bear with me… my hands are rather rough; I might hurt you.”

Her voice was hushed.

Her golden eyes intently fixed on my face, as if she were polishing a priceless, fragile porcelain artifact freshly unearthed.

That gaze was simply too profound.

Compared to Ella’s overt desire to merge into one, Beatrix’s actions concealed a more subtle, yet far heavier, possessiveness.

It was the warped possessiveness of a knight for their liege.

By acknowledging her liege’s vulnerability, by personally tending to her liege’s body, she affirmed her own worth, deriving a certain illicit satisfaction from it.

“…I’m not in pain.”

I replied, somewhat stiffly.

I wanted to retreat, to bury myself in the sofa.

Yet my left hand was tightly interlocked with Ella’s, and an endless stream of light magic flowed through my fingertips, making my entire body feel weak.

On my right, I was enveloped by Beatrix’s presence.

The scent of soap from her body mingled with the tuberose fragrance from the handkerchief, weaving an inescapable net around me.

I felt like prey pinned beneath the claws of two apex predators.

They were ostensibly serving me, caring for me.

Yet the air in the lounge grew increasingly hot, increasingly thin.

“Lady Lilliana…”

Ella leaned close to my ear, her voice as soft as liquid.

“Does it feel good? My magic…”

“Are you uncomfortable anywhere else, my master?”

Beatrix’s fingers slid down my cheek, pausing by my carotid artery, feeling its pulse.

“Gulp…”

I unconsciously swallowed.

The sound of my throat moving was strikingly clear in the deathly silent space.

In that moment, I sorrowfully realized something.

The shattering of the Holy Appraisal Stone had not only shattered Alexis’s worldview.

It seemed to have also utterly shattered the last defense of decorum in these two young women’s hearts.

They were no longer content to merely observe me from afar.

They desired…

…to touch me.

…to possess me.

…to transform me into…

…a god belonging solely to them.

‘What… what was I to do?’

I sighed heavily in my heart.

Meanwhile.

On the empty stage of the grand auditorium.

Alexis von Lumiere still stood there.

The crowd had dispersed, the clamor subsided.

Only a few priests, still reeling, were frantically clearing the stone dust from the floor.

Alexis lowered his head, staring at his empty hands.

On his fingertips, the cold, rough sensation of the Holy Appraisal Stone turning to ash seemed to linger.

“…There was no light.”

He murmured to himself.

In that instant, he had seen neither the joy of victory nor mockery directed at him in the duchess’s eyes.

He had seen only a bottomless, tranquil void.

That gaze was like looking at a petulant child, even carrying a hint of pity.

“Pity…?”

Alexis clenched his fists abruptly, his fingernails digging deep into his palms, drawing blood.

A twisted, unprecedented pain exploded in his heart.

It wasn’t just hatred.

It was a yearning to be gazed upon by that look, to be embraced by that void, yet to be barred entry due to his own superficiality…

…a petulant agitation.

“Lilliana…”

He uttered the name in the desolate auditorium.

His voice was hoarse, tinged with an unsettling obsession.

“Since light cannot illuminate you…”

“Then I shall… personally step into your darkness.”

“Even if it means… destroying both you and me together.”